It was a first time for all of us.

We showed up early to tour the auditorium, and this cute little old man who had more country music smarts in his little pinkie than I’ve got in my whole body led us back stage and talked and talked and talked about the pictures on the wall and when they were made (this cracked my dad up to know end.  ”Hey Courtney, wanna have your picture made?”  ”Hey Dad, you’re from Montana, please don’t.”) and the people in them and what songs they were singing and who their parents were and who they were married to and maybe even when they died.

Those dressing rooms were tiny and hot and for the Ryman Auditorium, not as impressive as you would hope.

But I think I might have started crying in one of them.

Because Carrie Underwood was going to be there that night, and Martina McBride, and those are two women I really wouldn’t hate to be.  And I thought about them standing in one of these rooms putting on their pretty dresses (and after I saw Carrie, imagining her doing whatever she does to make her legs look so freaking shiny, besides the obvious 8 hour a day work outs, holy COW) and I thought… what do I have to change about myself to be them?  Not BE them, obviously, but to have these opportunities?  To get up on that stage and sing Make the World Go Away or He Is Good or maybe even Better Not Settle?  To be a part of history, to really meet the people behind the scenes… the people who know?

I’m not sure who I have to be… I’m not sure how to get there and … I just know it’s the only dream I’ve ever had.  Maybe I should figure it out.

MEN.
UGH.

The biggest lament, though, was all the social standards that we feel like we need to adhere to.  For example, why is it that when a girl and a guy break up and the guy is the one who thinks it’s a big mistake, he has all of these tools available to him to help him change her mind?  Who ever heard of a dude who found it totally romantic to get flowers at his desk every day at work?

Let’s just say I know that wouldn’t work in my current situation. 

But listen.  I will never explain my situation satisfactorily to anyone, and it became apparent to me one day when he asked, “Do your friends and family think I’m an asshole?” and I had to wonder… do they?, that maybe it’s unfair to try to explain it.  I’m the one who knows myself, knows this situation, and knows him.  Yes, it has hurt like hell, and yes, I’ve definitely needed a shoulder or five to cry on over the past weeks…

But I still love him and I still think the world of him.  There is no black or white here.

And if there is no black or white… if nobody but the two of us are ever really going to understand (not that I don’t have some friends who have been AWESOME and totally In The Same Boat… that’s not it, but still… it was our relationship, not anybody else’s) then why should I have to follow these imaginary rules made up for… who?  And by who? 

Who says I can’t do whatever is in my power to do to make this complicated, foggy situation work out the way I want it to?

I know.  I’ve been through this enough to know that it nearly never works that way.  I know that moving on might just be the easiest thing for all of us.  But I have this FAITH that there’s still more of this story to tell. 

It’s going to be a fantastic love story.  I’m going to fight for it.   Gather all the faith I can find.  Do anything I can to make him believe in us.  I know that not every story has a happy ending but…

I don’t think this one has ended at all.  Not quite yet.

So I’ve got a plan.

And I’m gonna break the rules to carry it through.

You know the name Mindy Smith, right?  Most people have heard of her and maybe really don’t know why.  She’s incredible, but she still flies pretty under the radar.  I’m not some under ground music fanatic… I’ll admit to being lazy and letting the radio decide what I like… sometimes.   So I don’t know if she’s really unknown or if I just think she is, and in that case, you may have heard about this album… I don’t know… a year ago when it came out.

The fact is that while I’m kind of done talking about this whole stupid boy situation right now, I’m still feeling it down to my core.

And this album?

Do me a favor and check it out.

Other than the album I’d be recording RIGHT THIS MOMENT if I had the money because OH MY GOD, THE BREAK UP SONGS! … there’s nothing that could be better.

Well… except maybe Punch Brothers Punch.

Yeah.

(I’m trying to link up to these albums but, surprise surprise, boys aren’t the only creatures who inhabit earth that don’t like giving me what I want.  My computer is about to get broken up with as well.)

I heard it again on the radio this morning.  It’s like it’s the only way God can get through to me.  The song came to “It’s all part of a grander plan…” and I lost it.  Completely lost it. 

I’m such a mess.  It’s ridiculous.  We used to have a joke in high school, which was funny mostly because it was true, about how seeing just a stupid orange extension cord would remind me of my exboyfriend.  yo know, when I think about angels I think about you?  Only less happy.  That’s how it is now.  White service vans.  Classic cars.  Hearing Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros on the radio.  Drinking anything from Starbucks.  Crashing in my old bed.  Crashing in my new bed.  My own couch.  My own kitchen.

We’ve been talking pretty regularly for the past month… it’s been a month since we broke up.  And I’ve been fine.  The one time I actually saw him was hard, but the talking hasn’t been.  The talking… it was just us. 

But he made me promises which he seems to think he’s keeping and I don’t agree.  Maybe I’m jealous, maybe I expect too much.  Maybe it’s just that he makes no sense.  None of it makes any logical sense.

Love isn’t logical, I know that.  He thinks it should be… but his excuses don’t equal logic.

Oh yeah, and have I mentioned?  I finally broke down and used the word love.

LOVE.

I love him.

And I was crying when I told him in some sort of desperate attempt to make him see that making time for some girl he barely even knows is not even close to as worthwhile as making time for me would have been. Romantic, right?

But it wasn’t a lie.

I love him.

And I can’t seem to figure out why he can’t love me.

It was weird.  I got a little crabby about it.

He came in the house to cool off after we’d figured out everything we needed to figure out and when I sat down he commenced with his usual snooping to see if anything new and interesting had appeared on the scene.  He’s like a puppy like that.

He picked something up from the table beside the couch and asked, “Why do you have a Disney coloring book?”

“Because you broke up with me,” I answered.

What?
He asked.

We quiz each other on Disney lyrics throughout the work day and play Bookworm together on our lunch breaks.  We sing obnoxiously and skip down the street and tell stories about working at the Cracker Barrel and stupid ex boyfriends and go to the theater to see kids’ movies and do puzzles and sit by the pool drinking beer and dance to the band and flirt with the singer when we’ve both had a little to drink.  She let me cry just a little at work the day after my break up with Ryan and is letting me gush and rant and be completely confused and frustrated about the fact that I’m crushing on somebody else ALREADY.

There is a vibe. Is there a vibe?  You see it too?  What?  EVEN OUR BOSS SAW IT? Good god.  Okay.  But this is okay right?  Is this okay?  What about the fact that I still go home and cry about being broken up and get up in the morning looking forward to seeing someone else?  AM I CRAZY?  I’m not?  Good.  I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.

Can we eat mac and cheese and watch the Little Mermaid on our lunch break?

Okay.

Truth is, Ryan meant as much to me as he did, and does, because he came along when I really just needed a FRIEND around this place.  I’ve said that and that’s not new.  But I’d have never gotten through this Ryan stuff if it hadn’t been for Emily because she IS my friend and she is a FANTASTIC friend.  We have the same brain.

Oh my goodness.

I was also in this I Don’t Know What My Hair Is Supposed To Be Netherworld.  It’s a fun Netherworld to inhabit from time to time.

I showed up to the retail job one day in a decent outfit, and I’d straightened my hair and my bangs were pretty grown out so I’d sort of braided them back and pinned them to the side of my head.  I was working behind the register and somebody commented on the ‘do, asking, “Is that a braid?”

I smiled and nodded.

She shook her head, looked at her friend, and sighed.  “Oh, man.  The pretty ones.”

Weird, and slightly uncomfortable, but flattering.

(this video is also weird and slightly uncomfortable, however, it was filmed on the day in question and displays the ‘do nicely.)

I don’t really know what made me think of that moment other than… I don’t really know.

BUT THE POINT IS — maybe, according to the random girl shopping at Guess, I was (or am) a pretty one, but my friend Erin is a TALENTED one.

And it’s kind of fitting that I bring up this moment and find this video because in the video I’m all, “I’M MOVING TO TENNESSEE. “  And if I hadn’t moved to Tennessee (hello WHOA I’ve been here forever now) I wouldn’t know Erin and wouldn’t be doing all this fun stuff that is SO Tennessee like, um, letting her take pretty pictures of me and eating pancakes afterwards.

SNEAK PEAK.

That’s all.

I love her.  She is a talented one.  AND a pretty one.

And it was the day I met Ryan.

Call me crazy, but that’s how I knew, and still know, he was supposed to be in my life.  Things worth remembering happen on October 29th.

A little over a week ago I sat at my kitchen table, writing a letter.  I was shaking with emotion, pleading my case with every bit of strength I had left–please, stay or go… but I need you to choose.

Already knowing he’d be out, I drove out to his house and walked around his backyard, looking at his Studebakers, lined up in the yard for the afternoon.  The red car was finished.  It was only the second time I’d seen it out of the garage.  I taped the letter to his door, turned my little orphan car around, and drove away.

I wasn’t at all surprised when he called Monday night to say he didn’t think we should be seeing each other anymore.

My brother, one of my very best friends, was sitting on my couch watching Harry Potter when I walked out of my room.  I refused to cry.  I laid down and commented on the movie.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I could only nod.

The next day was hard, but the days following were easier.  Much easier than expected.  It’s not that I didn’t or still don’t have feelings for him.  It’s just that we should have stopped dating each other months ago.  And I was sad, but I felt better.

But I met him on the 29th of October.  I met him at a time in my life when I didn’t have very many friends I could count on, certainly not in the same zip code, or state, or general area of the country.  He was interesting and easy to talk to and he was from the midwest and he liked my music and I gave him my number not because it even occurred to me to make a move, but because I really needed a friend.

And we started dating, and the dating was fun.  The relationship aspect that existed between the two of us never got very serious.  I’d have liked it to, sure.  We weren’t in the same place when it came to what we wanted from our lives.  But that didn’t change the fact that nobody understood me the way he did.  No one could be truthful with me the way he could, could relate to me the way he could, could knock any kind of common sense into me the way he could, and he never even had to try.

He said the thought of a relationship turned him off because he liked things he knew how to fix.  Cars you oil and grease and twist the nuts and bolts and eventually the car would run.  Girls aren’t more complicated, they’re just not as straight forward.  You can’t use your hands, your elbow grease.  There’s no real way to know when you’ve really done your job.

I always thought that was so silly because all he had to do was answer his phone and make me smile and let me cry a little and I was fixed.  There was nothing more he’d have ever had to do.

And that is why I couldn’t bring myself to put an end to a situation I knew neither of us particularly liked anymore.  Because I was afraid that losing the cuddling and the kissing and the frustration at the differences in what we wanted from each other in that particular situation would mean losing the talking and the coffee and the… everything else.

Ryan was — and is — one of my best friends.  How do you just give that up?

People say you can’t be friends with your exes.  You broke up for a reason.  You won’t be strong enough to keep things platonic.  Someone’s feelings will get hurt in the end.

I know we were right.  I know we did the right thing.

I called him after work tonight.  We’ve texted each other a few times but this was the first time we’ve really talked since the night he called to call things off.  He sounded good.  He’s already a completely different person than he was a week ago.  Things are changing.  I bought a puzzle and coloring books… Maybe all of those things he’s doing are his own way of getting over me.  But he sounded happy to hear from me and I told him to call me.  Whenever he feels like it.

We’re going to try being friends.

It’s going to be fucking hard and it’s going to hurt like a bitch.

But it will be worth it.

Really, really long letters that spark just one moment of true inspiration.

Painful, if not completely messy, break-ups.

More later, I promise.

Things are still settling.

There was no fighting the tears anymore.

I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn’t see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

And I guess it was what I really needed to hear and I guess someone out there knew that.

I don’t regret him, he wasn’t a mistake.

But there are better things to come.